Caleb Jacobo

My Thoughts and Creative Writing

Latest stories

You are a true un-wit and a gentle beast…we love you dearly, old friend.

We sat and dripped sweat in the honey heat, listened to Mic D on the upright, and Mama Tracery checked on each table one by one. “Samuel,” Mama Tracery said, “you’re going to start paying a maintenance tax on those fritters if you don’t slow down boy; I spent my last penny on those broken legs.” “Yes ma’am,” Samuel said through bits of fried...

A clear package of tomatoes fell and scattered in all directions. "You know I wasn't at work."

I sat on the couch with a glass of two-dollar Cabernet. Sheldon came in at twelve forty-five with his shoulder’s rolled forward and back facing me. His head hung to one side as he fumbled at the lock. I didn’t cry, crying ends it before we can begin. I needed him to hear this. And like it or not, the drink might help. I asked him how work was. Sheldon pawed through the refrigerator, a...

All hands to your mizzenmast!

Prompt: One good turn deserves another. —Aesop’s Fables — All I could see was gold and hot-white, and in the middle of it all, the most incredible figure I’d ever seen. The Spanish sun bleached away everything on that lost island, but not him. Its rays splashed all around his tall silhouette, but the pirate’s sword swung so wide and sliced so fine that it split that sun...

Stole? You're a crazy woman, what could I possibly want from you?

Here is a scene sketch I wrote this morning. Enjoy! — “What’s this, Arnie?” I said. “A note, genius.” “Who from?” “Boss.” I peeled the note off the counter and read as I headed into the back. It said I had received an official warning for poor work performance; that my drawer had been short three days in a row, and that, by accumulation...

A dozen proud pines stunk and softened along the river's edge, back to the open earth after half a millennium.

Prompt: River Cliffs — A dozen proud pines stunk and softened along the river’s edge, back to the open earth after half a millennium. “This is what I’m talking about Sara, this is paradise!” I tasted the sweet grass in the air. “Ah! It’s like we’re adventuring across some fantasy land.” Sara didn’t respond, but struggled under the weight...

Life here is actually very pleasant once you find your things.

The roar woke me from the best dream I’d ever had. I was home, in the dream, and my red towel was there, and Sis, and me. I was there, but I could see myself like I was Blackdog standing over me on the couch. I rolled and kicked a cushion out of place. I rolled again and tore the corner of my towel. It was a normal day. Everything was perfect. Then the roar woke me up and the old growl...

I have a thing for you to do Humbert, a thing I can’t ask of the other officers…

The sun hung a yellow sash across Decon’s back, but stripped it when his office door rattled shut. “Do you know what it means to be Deputy?” “I think so,” the visitor said, “yes.” Decon turned. “I have a thing for you to do Humbert, a thing I can’t ask of the other officers to, do you understand what I’m saying?” Humbert rapped his boot heels together and stiffened his arms at his sides. “Yes sir...

Cypress boughs creeked in the dim…

Cypress boughs creaked in the dim; their pale green leaves danced with broken moonlight conducted by the insect ballad. The warm air lifted the smell of rot and damp wood. Montgomery sat at the edge of the buoyed pier, with his nose just above the opaque water. Behind him, orange lamp light pulsed from the porch of a wooden shack, white and grey with age; tied down here and patched there where...

…she doesn't just cry, but other things too that give me heavy shoes.

Here is a quick morning prompt for you. Enjoy! — Prompt: Alone in my room — He stood half-wary out of my bedroom door and told me he loved me. Then he pushed the switch and slipped out with the light. When he’d gone his words hopped around me, on my mattress, and hung on the ceiling. They split as they leaped and splashed into one another again and talked over each other...

Caleb Jacobo My Thoughts and Creative Writing